Thundercracker Versus Dreamchylde: Morning Coffee
by Dreamchylde
Summary: Tales From the Desk Top: Dreamchylde's year long losing battle with Thundercracker over coffee. Goofy. Very, very goofy.


A/N: No, I haven't fallen off the face of Cybertron, yet. I'm in a mad rush to get some of my real life work done before 8/20 ,after that I should be able to devote more time to writing.

Ever since I bought Movieverse Thundercracker, we've had a near daily argument over my coffee. So I wrote it down. I'll get pictures up shortly.

Enjoy!

**Thundercracker Versus Dreamchylde – Morning Coffee**

The Window's Vista splash screen greeted me as I sat down at my desk and took the first sip of my morning cup of coffee. Hot, steamy and essential to my morning routine, I held the cup between my slightly chilled and stiff fingers as I waited for the startup programs to slowly come alive. My Jazz desktop greets me and Firefox opens moments after. Nine new email messages are waiting for my attention, so I set my candy apple red mug to the right side of my mouse; just within reach, but out of the way so I can work. My hand barely makes it to the mouse when I hear those dreaded sounds.

-PITTOO clink clink clink-

With a belabored sigh, I look to the heavens and try to ignore the evil snickering coming from the other side of my desk.

"Thundercracker... I -just- sat down."

The sniggering gets louder as I reach into my coffee cup and pull out the offending incendiary missile, licking the coffee off of it and setting it to the side. There is the hitch of a hiccup in air intakes and I turn to glare at the rotten Decepticon who now has the most angelic and completely innocent smile gracing his faceplates. And as if to belie his blamelessness, the gun that launched the trespassing missile is carefully held behind his back. "I don't know what you're talking about, DC."

"How many times do I have to tell you that coffee and Seekers don't mix well? You're hyper enough as it is and I have a lot of work I need to get done and little time to complete it."

He still smiles innocently, "Better get to work then."

I shoot him a poisonous glare and return to checking my email.

Once email pleasantries are completed, I start downloading my latest batch of images from my camera. While I'm waiting for the download to complete, I pick up my cup and have another sip of the warming liquid. If all goes well, I muse to myself, I can hop of the bus and travel down to the art supply store to pick up some new paint before the day becomes uncomfortably hot.

-PITTOO clink clink clink-

"Thundercracker!" I set the cup down firmly and wipe the splashed liquid off of my glasses.

He stood quietly next to the flat screen monitor as innocent as a newborn babe, but this time -both- guns are held behind his back. "What?"

I sigh and sop up the spilled coffee from my shirt with a tissue; I can hear him trying to stifle another round of snickering. "For the love of Primus! I am –not- giving you any freaking coffee! Stop. Shooting. My. Mug!"

My dog wanders over to investigate whom I might be yelling at, but finds the spilled coffee on my shorts to be far more interesting. I try to shoo her away with a promise of a cookie once I am finished working when it happens again.

-PITTOO clink clink clink-

Coffee is sloshed across the mouse pad. "Thundercracker!"

"It wasn't me!" The blue-gray Seeker slyly points to Ratchet, "I saw him do it!"

There was loud CLANG! of metal hitting metal and a muffled 'ouch'. "I don't have a gun, you rotten little slagger." Ratchet growled at Thundercracker and brandished his axe for emphasis.

"Stop it, TC."

I was rewarded with a cherubic smile. "What? I'm just standing here."

Gray eyes glared at orange optics, "Your halo is rusting as we speak, Decepticon."

Slowly, I slid my hands over to the keyboard, keeping an eye on the Seeker as I start to type. He only watches me back with a hint of boredom worming its way to his features. Casually, he glances around at the other mechs that are residing on the desk - I assume looking for bait to pester. I relax slightly and work in uninterrupted peace for all of ten minutes when…

-PITOO clink clink clink-

"That's it!" I slammed my fist on the thesaurus beside me, and scare the more subdued mechs from their quiet conversations. "Now you're going to sit in time-out. DISARMED!"

The blue-gray Decepticon tries to give me the 'I'm innocent' look, while stifling a fresh round of giggles.

"Oh? You think that's funny, huh? Well, I changed my mind about sticking you in time-out. I think you need to spend some 'quality time' with your fellow mechs. Oh, and look. You're the only 'Con on the desk today. Looks like you'll be hanging with…"

I pluck the two Autobots from the other side of the monitor who are waving madly at me to pick them. Thundercracker's optics widen in horror and I cackle evilly as I removed his only means of defense. The now blessedly unarmed mech was set down with his 'playmates' and I patted him on the head condescendingly, "Now play nice and don't hurt him too much, guys. I don't need Ratchet yelling at me because he's got strained servos."

The three were unnaturally silent, but I was able to finish my work, in peace and quiet.

"We should get a picture."

"Wait! I have an idea, but we need some string first. Then we can tie him up by his tailfins and hold him upside down and pose like they do in those fishing pictures."

I glance over at the strange conversation and blink at Thundercracker in his F-22 Raptor form with a mech standing on each wing and rocking back and forth. "…What are you two doing?"

The red Dodge Viper grins up at me, "MiG tipping."

The golden Dodge Viper turns and looks at me, "Can we borrow the camera, DC?"

"Yeah, can we please? Oh! And some string?"

I sigh and hand the digital camera over to the two 'bots with the stiff warning that hellfire will rain down upon their pristine chassis if anything happens to it. They take no time at all setting up the picture and I pick up my unmolested coffee cup for a relaxing sip. Something brushes my lips and I peer into the mug: the final missile swirls haphazardly in the remaining half of my aromatic breakfast.

Even in his embarrassing position, I distinctly hear the deep baritone chuckle of the blue-gray Seeker.

I give up.

"I'll get you your own damned cup. But you're getting decaf!"

--

Yeah, I know it's goofy.


End file.
